


Ten Year Deal

by SushiOwl



Series: Assorted Scenes [26]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon Deals, Demon Stiles Stilinski, Demonic Possession, Demons, Gen, Hellhound Derek, Kinda, Superwolf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-10 01:13:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's time to pay up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ten Year Deal

**Author's Note:**

> What is this? I don't know.
> 
> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are mine! :D

The buzzer went off, and the roar of the crowd was music to Jackson's ears. He held up his lacrosse stick and put his head back, soaking it all in as his teammates ruched in. He'd scored the winning goal. He was the big hero. He laughed as his team slapped their gloves against his helmet, saying things like 'Way to go, Whittemore' and 'Great shot, man.' Yeah, he was the best.

The applause followed them into the locker room, and he managed to get his helmet and pads off before his hyperactive nut job of a coach got him into a headlock. “That's my man, Jackson!” Finstock yelled, giving his blond head a noogie. “You keep playing like that, kid, and you're going down in the hall of fame!”

Jackson managed to wrestle out of the hold, laughing. “I plan on it, coach!” That got him a mildly painful punch in the arm, and he resisted the urge to rub it as he went back to changing. 

Everything was on the up and up for him. He'd been pulled right out of high school to go pro, and he'd been a rising star ever since. Playing on his home team had seemed like a conservative move to everyone else, since they weren't nationally ranked. But he just knew that if he worked hard enough, he'd help his team rise to stardom. And that was exciting what happened. He'd been on this team seven years, and they'd won state and national championships five of those years.

On the way out of the locker room with the boys, he wanted to call Lydia and see how she was doing, if she was keeping off her feet and letting the helper he'd hired for her actually do things around the house. Chances were Lydia had dismissed the poor woman and was waddling around, even though she was about to pop.

He patted his pockets and noticed something amiss. “Uh, I'll catch you guys later,” he said, stalling partway out the door. “I left my phone. I'll see you at the bar tonight.” He turned and went back in.

He headed back inside, going through the empty lobby to the locker room doors. It was dark inside, and he flicked the switch and stood there, confused, as nothing happened. He flicked the switch a couple more time then mumbled about shoddy maintenance before heading inside. It was mostly light enough for him to see.

His cell phone was lying on the bench next to his locker, and he grabbed it, starting to cycle through his contacts to call Lydia as he turned back toward the exit. He jerked with a gasp as he almost ran right into someone that was standing stock still behind him. “Jesus fucking Christ!” he said, putting his hand on his chest as his heart thundered. “Who the fuck are...” He trailed off, getting a good look at this person.

He was just a bit taller than Jackson himself, wearing a red hoodie with dark jeans and beat up Vans. There was something about him that was familiar. It was in his face, in his amber eyes, turned up nose and... and moles. Jackson recognized those moles.

The phone slipped right out of his hand. “You,” he breathed out, stepping back and falling onto his ass on the bench when the backs of his legs hit it.

The guy just stared at him, the corner of his mouth twitching up as his eyes bled to solid red. “Me.” He cocked his head to the side. “It's been ten years, Jackson. I'm here to collect.”

“I'm not ready to go yet,” Jackson said in a horrified murmured, sliding down the bench until he tumbled off and staggered to his feet. “I can't. My—my wife is pregnant.”

“Really? You're trying to bargain?” the demon asked as he tracked Jackson's wide circle around him with his eyes. “You have nothing left to offer me. I already own your soul.”

“Can't you give me more time?” Jackson more or less squeaked, backing toward the doors and sending glances over his shoulder.

The demon just watched him, that small smile on his lips. “You got what you wanted. I made that little shoulder injury you got in high school disappear.” He waved his hand. “You're a pro. You're famous. You got the girl. You got everything detailed in your contract.”

Jackson let out a kind of whimper, before he fell over himself to get to the door, pulling at the handles. “Help!” he cried, beating on the Plexiglass. “Somebody help me!” There was no one there though, no one to hear him call out. “Please...” He put his forehead against the door and let out a sob, tears prickling in his eyes.

He turned, looking at the demon. “Look, you can't do this. My wife—I have to be with her. She's going to have a kid, and she can't do it alone—please! I have people that love me. There's going to wonder where I went. I can't just—I can't just disappear!”

A little laugh bubbled out of the demon. “Oh, you think you're going to disappear? Oh no, you're not going to be dragged to hell bodily, you twit. Your soul needs to be released from its mortal coil first.”

“H-how?” Jackson asked, sliding down the doors and onto the cold ground.

The demon grinned at that, a flash of white teeth like lightning. He tipped his head to the other side. “This is Derek,” he said, and a shape shimmered into existence next to him, a tall man with a square, stubbled jaw, bright eyes and a leather jacket. “He is a hell hound, my very own. He's going to pull your soul right out of your body.” That grinned widened impossibly. “Piece by bloody piece.”

Jackson sucked in a shaky breath.

“I'd like to say it's not going to hurt, but I make it a policy not to lie. Bad for business, you see. But if it's any comfort, your wife's going to get one hell of a fat life insurance payment.” He lifted his hand, brushing his fingers over the hound's jaw. Where he touched, his face faded out like peeking through a veil into blackness. “Sic 'im, boy.”

The hell hound dropped down into a monstrous shape, oily blackness shaped like half man, half wolf with a bright, pristine white skull. His jaw was lined with wicked teeth, and he stretched it into a gesture almost like a yawn, before it took off toward Jackson.

He only had time to lift his arms and scream before he became blood red, meaty stains on the floor and walls.

**Author's Note:**

> My prompts are open! Feel free to hit me up at my [Tumblr.](http://thesushiowl.tumblr.com/post/70450587133/hello-i-am-taking-teen-wolf-prompts-im-down-for)
> 
> This is a scene that's been in my head for a while.


End file.
